


Yellow

by StrayLiger



Category: Gundam 00
Genre: Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-05
Updated: 2018-10-05
Packaged: 2019-07-25 15:58:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16200827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StrayLiger/pseuds/StrayLiger
Summary: “Tieria, you look like a little girl in a Japanese horror movie.”





	Yellow

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to try something a bit different with like, more narrative, rather than a character study, to step out of my comfort zone, and I guess I was in the mood for some LockTie? This is inspired by the first season ending 2, because it's my favorite.
> 
> Also my friend @w-ingsofwords showed me this super nice song by Hiroshi Kamiya (Tieria Erde's seiyuu) called "Mirror World" and I reccomend listening to it while you read, just because (I actually edited most of the fic while listening to it lmao)
> 
> And I suppose I'll eventually edit the tags? I'm not sure of what to tag my stuff yet haha;;

Tieria needs a haircut.

It’s the first thing he thinks when he wakes up, goes to the bathroom to get dressed and looks at himself in the mirror-his hair is so long it now brushes his shoulders, his bangs falling over his eyes, obscuring his vision. He actually noticed it yesterday, when he had to stop every five minutes because his hair, impossibly soft and smooth, refuses to stay in place, and kept getting in his face, and Mileina had to offer him one of her headbands.

(He doesn’t mind the headband-considering Mileina’s tastes, this one’s blessedly plain, but it’s _yellow_ and it clashes awfully with Tieria’s hair.)

He knows he should feel annoyed. This is highly inappropriate, and unsafe, and impractical. But he’s surprised when he realizes that what he actually feels is a dull, muted sadness, something that thumps against the inside of his skull like the nausea that precedes a migraine.  
The worst part is that he knows exactly why.

Like all his memories, this one is crystal clear and painfully detailed: he remembers everything about that day like it had happened yesterday. The A/C in their improvised refuge had stopped working for no discernable reason, and the temperature inside was enough to drive even Setsuna, who was used to the heat and refused to leave the Exia’s side, outside seeking the ocean breeze that alleviated only slightly the sensation of being burned alive. Ian kicked them all out-it was too hot to be all holed up in there and they wouldn’t do anything but get in the way.

Even Tieria had agreed, because it was impossible to touch the Virtue without suffering a third degree burn, and he had been actually forced to take off his sweater for the first time since he’d landed on Earth.

It was so hot that when Lockon decided to entrust him and Allelujah with preparing lunch, right there on the beach, Tieria didn’t even think about protesting.

Lockon took off his ridiculous vest, kicked off his shoes, tied his hair in a ponytail, and announced that he would be giving Setsuna a haircut. Setsuna complied without a word, obediently sitting down with a sheet around his shoulders, docile as a lamb, like he always did, and Tieria was sincerely glad: the youngest of the Meisters had probably also noticed the way everyone stared when he took off his helmet.

To Tieria’s surprise, Lockon actually did a good job. Like he knew what he was doing.

If only he would shut up.

He could hear him babble like there was no tomorrow while he gently pushed Setsuna’s head forward or to the side, dropping questions that Setsuna didn’t answer and laughing at his own jokes. Tieria let the sound of Lockon’s voice, the crashing of the waves on the beach, lull his mind into a state of blissful emptiness as he chopped vegetables in silence. It was too hot to think about anything.

“Tieria, you look like a little girl in a Japanese horror movie.”

It took Tieria a good thirty seconds to register what Lockon had just said, and it was actually Allelujah’s snort what made him blink and turn to look at Lockon with a glare that would have sent a more intelligent man running for his life. He put down the knife he’d been using to chop vegetables, because it was too big of a temptation.

“Excuse me?” he blurted. Lockon didn’t seem intimidated. Setsuna was now on his feet, brushing the stray hairs off his pants, as usual paying no mind to whatever was happening around him, and the older of the Meisters pointed at the chair and snapped the scissors in his hand.

“Don’t you want a haircut too? You honestly look like you need it.”

Tieria frowned and hesitated, and without thinking his hand went to his head, running his fingers through his hair. He noticed that the tips had become slightly dry and split in odd ways at the end-probably because of the salty air.

“I promise I won’t make you any less pretty” Lockon added, laughing when Tieria glared at him again. “Come on. All that hair must be getting in the way, right? And it will help, with this heat.”

There were many things that Tieria hated about Lockon Stratos: one, that Tieria could easily solve with a bottle of water, was how much he smoked. Another one, that didn’t seem to have a solution, was how he seemed to be able to talk him into anything.

Allelujah intervened.

“You have been struggling to keep your hair out of your eyes all morning” he said as delicately as he could to avoid setting off his companion’s temper. “It won’t hurt.”

“Fine” Tieria snapped, sighing heavily. He reluctantly walked towards Lockon, looking stiffer than usual, and sat down on the chair that Setsuna had previously occupied, taking off his glasses and glaring at him again. “But I am warning you, Lockon Stratos. If you do anything weird to my hair, I will scalp you.”

“Alright, alright!” Lockon said, raising his hands in what he expected was an appeasing gesture. “I already promised I wouldn’t make you any less pretty, didn’t I?” There it was again, that stupid smirk. Tieria didn’t move an inch as the taller man placed the sheet around his shoulders, tying it at the back of his neck.

The first snip of the scissors made him tense up, but eventually, he relaxed.

Lockon, in an uncharacteristic display of sensibility, kept his mouth shut as he worked to avoid provoking him, and once again, Tieria let his mind go blank, watching the waves that slowly kissed the sand a few meters away from them. Every time Lockon nudged his head forward, or delicately brushed his hair away from his forehead, his skin broke into goosebumps-and much to Tieria’s surprise and confusion, he noticed that he didn’t mind the contact.

Touching had always been something that annoyed him deeply. Why do humans need to be touching each other, all the time, constantly, for whatever reason? Tieria had always made it clear that if anyone dared to grab his arm, or touch his shoulder, they would regret it, but everyone seemed to struggle with the notion.

And now there he was, at the mercy of Lockon Stratos, enjoying the way his fingers ran through his hair, separating the locks expertly to cut them into shape.

Absurd.

He almost jumped when Lockon stood in front of him and bent forward, forehead creased in concentration, and took his face in his hands to look at him. Tieria begged not to blush-being as pale as he was, it was nearly impossible to hide such an embarrassingly human display of embarrassment, but if he did blush, the man before him didn’t say anything. He was so close that Tieria could feel the scent of coconut that lingered on his skin (both Lockon and Tieiria had to slather themselves in sunblock, because their lily-white complexion didn’t tolerate the exposure to sunlight as well as Setsuna’s or Allelujah’s and Tieria had absolutely refused to wear a straw hat like the abomination Ian offered).

Lockon’s eyes were the same startling turquoise color as the sea behind him.

Lockon ran again his fingers through Tieria’s hair, pulling gently to make sure the length was equal on both sides, and then nodded, satisfied.

“Well” he announced. “I don’t have a mirror, but you can trust me. You look just as cute as the day we met, Tieria.”

Oh, son of a-yeah, he was most definitely blushing now. Tieria rolled his eyes in a poor attempt to conceal his embarrassment.

“This is purely for practical reasons” he grumbled. “I am not interested in my appearance, Lockon Stratos.” This was a blatant lie, but Lockon had the good sense to avoid calling him out. He chuckled.

“Tough nuts. You are pretty.”

Tieira didn’t have time to protest, as Lockon walked around the chair again to untie the sheet he had placed on his shoulders. Tieria discovered himself wishing he could stay sitting a while longer, and rose to his feet, annoyed at himself, brushing stray hairs off his shirt. Lockon picked a small lock of purple hair, and stared at it, squinting for a moment. He seemed fascinated by it-the red highlights, the blue shadows, the rich violet glint. Its unbelievable, childlike softness.

“It really is purple” he observed, sounding amused, smiling at Tieria, and Tieria realized then that he had been staring at Lockon for the whole time.

“It took you this long to notice?” he retorted, forcing himself to look away. He raised his glasses to his lips to blow on them, to remove the hairs that stuck to them-and then Lockon did the most stupid thing he’d done since Tieria met him, which was saying a lot.

He delicately took them from Tieria’s hands-Tieria didn’t protest, surprising himself one more time-, and examined them with his eyebrows raised.

And then he put them on, and looked up at Tieria.

Tieria couldn’t help but snort.

“What the hell are you doing?” he snapped, trying to sound angry. Lockon smiled.

“You don’t really need these, do you?” he asked. Tieria hesitated-then shook his head. Lockon removed the glasses from his face, and handed them back to Tieria. “Then why do you wear them?”

Tieria put the glasses back on and shrugged.

“I like them.”

Lockon smiled.

“I like you.”

 

Tieria takes off his glasses, closes his eyes and rubs his face with his hands to chase away the heavy cloud of sadness that looms over his head.

He has become soft, he thinks, if a memory like that can really affect him to this point.

Tieria sighs and hesitates-then puts on the yellow headband and sighs again. He puts his glasses back on and stares at his own face in the mirror for a moment. The person in it stares back, crimson eyes still sharp as razors, but lacking the coldness they had years ago. He can’t help but smirk slightly at the sight of the headband, because _god_ it’s obnoxiously _yellow_ ; at least Mileina had the kindess to give him the one hair accessory she owns that isn’t decorated with ribbons or flowers. Tieria thinks he looks ridiculous, but he’s surprised by his own lack of annoyance.

He decides that he doesn’t look that bad when he smiles.

It still takes him a moment to gather courage to walk out the door like this, but before he leaves, he steals one last quick glance at his image in the mirror.

“I like you, too” he whispers.


End file.
